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wolven7Christopher Walken/Gabriel/Lucifer is yelling at me. He is recounting the acheivements of stupider people in my position, and how "At least they had two braincells to bang together, to make a spark. You've got matches and a dry forrest! What the hell is wrong with you?" I wake up
Bathroom break, 7 am. Damn soda and water.
Something, here, about the relationship between Will and Uncle Phil, on "The Fresh Prince of Bel Air." Phil is trying to introduce Will to certain types of society, and get him to act a certain way, but it's all worthless. Will acts how he wants, and tends to charm the laity and the upper crust, alike.
We're in the car. It's me,![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
mr_hinzelmann, his sister, Bob, and Rosie, and we're travelling through a section of Downtown. mr_hinzelmann's sister is talking about something she got from a br, in the airport, called, simultaneously, "Firefly" and "Dragonfly." It's a book of matches, but it's also a key, and i ask her how she go tot the bar, as it's in a section of the Airport that connects to the Hotel in my Head. She walked there. The section of downtown throug which we're driving, is one of the more modern section, glass and steel construction, and my hotel is close, because i want it to be. I look to the right, out the window, as a construction worker drops a large black permanent marker, trying to roll it down the hill to someone. It veers into the road, and then back to the fenced in section, and eventualy gets to the person for whom it was intended.
Transitional. Thoughts of The Hotel, the Mall, the places where they combine. WAlking through the glass fronted side doors of the Hotel lobby, entering next tot the elevator.
Turning a downtown corner, and turning onto my street. My house would still be third on the left, as it is in the same position, if the other houses, around it, had not been razed. My house is surrounded by acres of farmland, and is in the middle of downtown Atlanta/DC. As we turn onto the street, we asee a truck/Bus turn into our driveway, and we wonder who it is. I posit that it's Anje or Kathryn, but Al and Bob tell me that they are expecting a ride from Bob, and Driving, respectively. We laugh about the former as Bob hasn't had a car in about two years. We turn into the drive way, which is gravel, now, with fewer trees, and get out of the car to see who it is. The truck is a catering truck, and one of our guests is on the bus.
Inside the house, the party is a Board meeting, and the inside is also my mother's new house. There is someone from a Major Network, threatening me, about taking my programing off the air. He looks like Vince Vaughn, but shorter, and his personality is like a cross between Vince Vaughn and Michael J. Fox. He's telling me that if i don't pull the programming, the school's funding will be cut, the programs will find no friends, and other horrible things. He's offering me things, and i've already resolved to tell him to go fuck himself, because he has no real power, unless i let him think he does. So i tell him to go fuck himself. He looks at me, shocked, and threatens, again. I tell him to go fuck himself again, more clearly and slowly, this time. I tell him that the school's funding will go through, and nothing will block my planning. It's Set. I'm on the table, behind him, and i have him in a choke hold, with three fingers on the nerve centre, in the centre of the left side of his neck. Nonverbal communication that he doesn't scare me. I can hear him thinking about trying to go over my head so i say, "You want me to call Leo [McGarry]? I'll call him right now." I'm standing next to him, with my cellular phone, in my hand, preparing to dial Leo, when the guy caves in, and agrees to my terms. To be gracious, I give him one of the programs he wanted, for syndication, or something. Nothing for mainstream, primetime. The guy is like an embodiment of "Wacky Neighbour" Sterotypes, now. I walk into the kitchen, to make a phone call, on the house line.
I'm callingsomnium, to figure out where she is, and if she's ok. I gt her answering machine, on which i can hear someone else, talking in the background. But it's realtime, not recorded, as if the speakers were picking up their voices, while it was playing the message. damnedsaint is there, cooking something, on the stove, in a cast iron skillet, and he wails, Shakespearian-style "Of all the one-in-a-million chaces!' bemoaning what he hears on the tape... He has pothoilders, to pick up the skillet, but it's still burning through. I try to get another one for him, but it's useless. He carries the burning skillet to the table, and sets it down. Commisseration dinner. I walk to the kitchen.
There are people outside my back door, and this house has changed shape, dramtically. Its first floor is now like a few apartments in which i've lived. I go out the back kitchen door, and there are two cars, on the other side of the wooden farm fence, parked in the grass nexts to the hardpack road.. One is an old black car, stately, shaped kind of like the Batmobile, from the sixties. It has a partial top down. The other is a newer Bently, with the top all the way down, and i ask the guy driving why we can't just put the top all the way down, in the other one. He explains the aesthitics of driving, and the functions of each car, to me. We get in and drive off.
Jumbles of impressions. Flashes of the bits that went before. Me, trying to retain as much of it, as possible... I wake up
Res - [Tsunami]--- "Little Earthquakes," by Tori Amos, was stuck in my head, when i woke up. I think it was the end-credti music, from the dream... I was looking for a copy of "Pretty Hate Machine," yesterday, so that might have something to do with it. Slept poorly, overall. Woke up a number of times.
I'm going to go call my sister, eat some small breakfast, and do a lot of reading.
Back later.
Bathroom break, 7 am. Damn soda and water.
Something, here, about the relationship between Will and Uncle Phil, on "The Fresh Prince of Bel Air." Phil is trying to introduce Will to certain types of society, and get him to act a certain way, but it's all worthless. Will acts how he wants, and tends to charm the laity and the upper crust, alike.
We're in the car. It's me,
mr_hinzelmann, his sister, Bob, and Rosie, and we're travelling through a section of Downtown. mr_hinzelmann's sister is talking about something she got from a br, in the airport, called, simultaneously, "Firefly" and "Dragonfly." It's a book of matches, but it's also a key, and i ask her how she go tot the bar, as it's in a section of the Airport that connects to the Hotel in my Head. She walked there. The section of downtown throug which we're driving, is one of the more modern section, glass and steel construction, and my hotel is close, because i want it to be. I look to the right, out the window, as a construction worker drops a large black permanent marker, trying to roll it down the hill to someone. It veers into the road, and then back to the fenced in section, and eventualy gets to the person for whom it was intended.Transitional. Thoughts of The Hotel, the Mall, the places where they combine. WAlking through the glass fronted side doors of the Hotel lobby, entering next tot the elevator.
Turning a downtown corner, and turning onto my street. My house would still be third on the left, as it is in the same position, if the other houses, around it, had not been razed. My house is surrounded by acres of farmland, and is in the middle of downtown Atlanta/DC. As we turn onto the street, we asee a truck/Bus turn into our driveway, and we wonder who it is. I posit that it's Anje or Kathryn, but Al and Bob tell me that they are expecting a ride from Bob, and Driving, respectively. We laugh about the former as Bob hasn't had a car in about two years. We turn into the drive way, which is gravel, now, with fewer trees, and get out of the car to see who it is. The truck is a catering truck, and one of our guests is on the bus.
Inside the house, the party is a Board meeting, and the inside is also my mother's new house. There is someone from a Major Network, threatening me, about taking my programing off the air. He looks like Vince Vaughn, but shorter, and his personality is like a cross between Vince Vaughn and Michael J. Fox. He's telling me that if i don't pull the programming, the school's funding will be cut, the programs will find no friends, and other horrible things. He's offering me things, and i've already resolved to tell him to go fuck himself, because he has no real power, unless i let him think he does. So i tell him to go fuck himself. He looks at me, shocked, and threatens, again. I tell him to go fuck himself again, more clearly and slowly, this time. I tell him that the school's funding will go through, and nothing will block my planning. It's Set. I'm on the table, behind him, and i have him in a choke hold, with three fingers on the nerve centre, in the centre of the left side of his neck. Nonverbal communication that he doesn't scare me. I can hear him thinking about trying to go over my head so i say, "You want me to call Leo [McGarry]? I'll call him right now." I'm standing next to him, with my cellular phone, in my hand, preparing to dial Leo, when the guy caves in, and agrees to my terms. To be gracious, I give him one of the programs he wanted, for syndication, or something. Nothing for mainstream, primetime. The guy is like an embodiment of "Wacky Neighbour" Sterotypes, now. I walk into the kitchen, to make a phone call, on the house line.
I'm calling
somnium, to figure out where she is, and if she's ok. I gt her answering machine, on which i can hear someone else, talking in the background. But it's realtime, not recorded, as if the speakers were picking up their voices, while it was playing the message. damnedsaint is there, cooking something, on the stove, in a cast iron skillet, and he wails, Shakespearian-style "Of all the one-in-a-million chaces!' bemoaning what he hears on the tape... He has pothoilders, to pick up the skillet, but it's still burning through. I try to get another one for him, but it's useless. He carries the burning skillet to the table, and sets it down. Commisseration dinner. I walk to the kitchen.There are people outside my back door, and this house has changed shape, dramtically. Its first floor is now like a few apartments in which i've lived. I go out the back kitchen door, and there are two cars, on the other side of the wooden farm fence, parked in the grass nexts to the hardpack road.. One is an old black car, stately, shaped kind of like the Batmobile, from the sixties. It has a partial top down. The other is a newer Bently, with the top all the way down, and i ask the guy driving why we can't just put the top all the way down, in the other one. He explains the aesthitics of driving, and the functions of each car, to me. We get in and drive off.
Jumbles of impressions. Flashes of the bits that went before. Me, trying to retain as much of it, as possible... I wake up
Res - [Tsunami]--- "Little Earthquakes," by Tori Amos, was stuck in my head, when i woke up. I think it was the end-credti music, from the dream... I was looking for a copy of "Pretty Hate Machine," yesterday, so that might have something to do with it. Slept poorly, overall. Woke up a number of times.
I'm going to go call my sister, eat some small breakfast, and do a lot of reading.
Back later.
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no subject
Date: 2005-03-20 03:52 am (UTC)no subject